Well, here it is finally, the end of Eric's tale. Thank you all for sticking with us through our epic absence in the middle and for your wonderful support throughout Eric's journey. Hope you enjoy...

* * * Epilogue * * *

"Air-wick! Air-wick!' yelled the little whippersnapper as he bound towards the room while remembering just in time to stop before crossing the threshold into the 'forbidden zone.' "Dadda says he reby."

Eric didn't bother looking up from tying up his shoelaces. "Reby for what?"

"Dons knows," Scott-Allen shrugged. "He ust says he reby."

"Well you can tell him that I'm not." Which he wasn't.

"Okays," Scottie backed out of the doorway and trotted across to the pool table where he began taking all of the balls out of the pockets without bothering to deliver the message.

"Keep your hands off!"

"Okays," Scottie agreed even as he plucked another ball out of the pocket to line up with the others.

"Fricken kids," Eric cursed under his breath while deciding if it was worth going over and enforcing the 'no grotty little chubby fingers anywhere near his pool table' rule but decided he'd allow it, just this once. Besides, it was almost time to be leaving and he still hadn't remembered where he'd put the tie that Neal had bought for him. Thinking of where the hell he ever would have put the damn thing, he went across and opened up his wardrobe doors and began foraging through the bits and pieces that had collected in a jumbled mess under the hanging clothes. Eric pushed aside his ice hockey gear and not seeing it anywhere obvious, he shook his head in frustration – for someone who always travelled light, he sure had accumulated a shit load of gear in a very short time!

He lifted his project on the Aztecs and wondered why he hadn't trashed it already. Was it because the teacher had said that theirs was one of the best presentations she'd ever sat through? Or possibly because Carl had kept his part of the project? Or maybe he was just waiting for an opportunity to light a great bonfire in the backyard and have a ceremonial burning of all the menial assignments he was forced to do…who knew?

Eric put the project back down so he could extract a shoebox that contained his more precious possessions. He knew unequivocally that the tie wouldn't be in there amongst his treasures but he did withdraw two twenties from his cash stash… just in case he felt like treating his friends to something far more palatable than the watered down juice that would be on offer.

Eric did another quick another scan in search of the tie before shoving everything back in and closing the wardrobe doors. All the clutter gave him cause to roll his eyes at what he'd told Elizabeth when she was in the middle of doing up his room – that it was a complete overkill because he wouldn't be sticking around for that long anyways and all he needed was a temporary foldaway bed. As he glanced around the room and considered how much of this 'temporary' abode was anything but, he had to laugh at the irony or more likely karma that he now had collected so many personal possessions that he couldn't even put his hands on one measly tie!

How embarrassing if Elizabeth were to wander down and see his room now. Not that she hadn't seen it lots of times already, after all, it had been her idea in the first place, to do up the basement bedroom for him as an early Christmas present. She'd informed him one night over dinner that in lieu of a gift he could take anywhere, she was going to give him a gift he could take nowhere – a teen boy's bedroom. He'd initially scoffed at her stupid offering, but when Elizabeth had uncovered his eyes to show him the finished product, he had been blown away. Elizabeth had managed to turn a very ordinary big empty room into a fickenly amazing bedroom complete with a solid silky oak queen-sized bed, a trendy study desk with blue led lighting bordering the edges, a luxury leather office chair better than Peter's, some polished wood shelving for his books that were fast becoming a prized collection, wooden plantation shutters on the windows, a magnificent panoramic photo of a boat floating in the aqua waters of the Mediterranean above his bed – if only Elizabeth knew the irony of that, and a spaghetti-piled rug that felt all too good between his toes.

Eric flopped down onto the rug and peered under the bed. He doubted he would have shoved the tie under there but he was running out of options. Not surprisingly, there wasn't anything under the bed but that damn cardboard box. The same cardboard box that had been under his bed back at the Burkes and then one day, when had been looking for a lost shoe, noticed that it had miraculously appeared under this bed. It had freaked him out at first, until he reasoned that Elizabeth had no doubt brought it along one day and delivered it with his clothes, while he was at school. Without being able to stop himself, Eric reached under and slid out the no longer dusty package. He knew what was in it already so he was at a loss to know why he could even care to take another look, but he did anyway. He leaned back against the bed with the box clearly labelled 'Eric Hunter,' nestled between his knees and extracted the canvas frame. Immediately, seeing the painting of him and his mom made him feel cheated, sad and especially angry all over again. Why did the dream have to end? He could have sat on that beach with his mom forever, simply content to splash in the waters and bask in the sunshine, without caring about treasures or making more money, or paying off a villa. Eric ran his fingers down his mother's beautifully happy face, but then he mentally slapped his hand away and forced down the emotions. Life really sucked the way it just gave a glimpse of the fairytale only to have it ripped away and replaced with…Eric sighed up towards his ceiling…whatever you called what he had now.

Eric hadn't seen his mom since their reunion at the FBI offices, and he still didn't feel like he could face her but he had spoken to her briefly a number of times on the phone. Plus, Peter had continued to give him regular updates and explained how his mom had been given a six year suspended sentence by a judge that had taken into consideration the blackmail, the experience they'd been through in Dubrovnik, the fact that Neal had served time for the offence and the associated psychological affect on the minor – that was him – of having both parents incarcerated. The judge had made a condition of his mom's probation that for the duration of the next six years, she had to reside in the city, and either be actively seeking or maintaining lawful employment. In other words, she couldn't go anywhere until her son graduated high school – Eric suspected Peter had everything to do with that particular condition. It also went without saying that Alex could not be involved in any criminal acts or associate with known criminals. Eric had to refrain from commenting how pigs would fly before that could ever happened and could probably guess that Peter and Neal had taken bets with each other as to who would do a runner first, him or his mom. Of course, if he was asked he wouldn't have know which way to bet his own money.

As predicted, Neal had offered Alex the upstairs apartment but to date, it remained empty. His mom had opted for a small studio apartment on Staten Island and even though she hadn't said why, Eric figured that she took a place as far as possible from Peter's 'big brother is watching' sphere of influence so it wouldn't be as easy for him to put a damper on any scheme she became involved with. Eric had to concede that at least his mother still had some smarts about her. Unlike Neal, who was happy to see missed opportunities such as rental money go wasting. Neal had tried to justify the empty apartment by saying that the guy Mozzie had arranged their house through was looking at selling and that Mozzie had put in an offer as he saw the property as a great investment for his retirement. Neal had rabbled on about seeing as that was the case, it was best not to complicate things by renting out the upstairs apartment but Eric had countered by declaring that if Neal's weirdo friend took up residence in their house, he'd be on the first flight out to Venezuela! Neal had laughed and told Eric he didn't know Mozzie very well at all if he thought he'd ever move into any place that could be described as 'a modern family home.' Who knew what that was supposed to mean? Neal refused to divulge any more information about Mozzie, or any of his other friends for that matter. Eric had wanted to ask who the lady was in the photo that was beside Neal's bed because she was standing alongside a kid that looked disturbingly like himself but he figured Neal would simply sidestep the subject so he took it upon himself to find out. One night he waited until Neal got in the shower and then he removed the photo from the frame and read the back – Ellen and Neal, Weldon Springs. Eric returned the photo to the frame and wondered how he'd been fortunate enough to avoid an introduction to this so called Ellen, but Eric guessed it was probably coming and he'd have to suffer through it soon enough.

And sooner or later he was going to see his own friends, one way or another. Neal had promised that for the summer, he could fly down, escorted of course, and hang out in Venezuela for a while. He was desperate to see the pups before they got too big but, he figured if Neal was going to organise and pay for his little jaunt and save him the fuss, he didn't mind waiting just that little bit longer.

Eric sighed and looked over his shoulder at the photo of the boat on the wall above his bed, the one that reminded him of all the good times he had before everything went south. Eric still didn't know whether he liked to have that reminder or not, but then his focus shifted back to the painting resting on his knees, the one that was definitely a painful a reminder of a life that could have been. He stared at the face of his mom and him and once again became completely mesmerised by how content they both were. He was so completely mesmerised in fact that he barely registered Neal's voice waffling down the stairs.

"Eric. Peter's ready to take you."

Eric quickly returned Neal's painting to the box and slid it back under the bed before hollering back, "I'll be up when I'm ready!"

"You'll be ready now!" That was Peter.

'Fricken impatient elderly people!' Eric cursed under his breath. It had been wishful thinking on his part to believe that when he moved in here with Neal, he would no longer have to deal with his warden, nor his behavioural correction techniques. But unfortunately he had learned the hard way that he'd have to probably move to another planet to escape the old man's reach. On the way to hockey training soon after he'd moved in with Neal, and possibly after he'd made a couple of comments about Neal that didn't have the Burke stamp of approval, the old senile one had given him some tedious lecture that he should now consider him a loving grandfather figure, one that lived just around the block, a grandfather that loved the kiddies visiting, would look forward to sleep-overs and coming along to watch the hockey matches but a grandfather of the grandfather variety type that wouldn't hesitate to remove his slipper to tan a youngster's hide if he dared in anyway to exhibit offensive behaviours towards one of his offspring. And apparently, he considered Neal as close to an offspring as his own child because in the middle of Neal's house warming party, while the Burkes, June, Mozzie, and a couple of Neal's pals from the Bureau were sitting around the barbeque drinking, Peter had declared his position painfully, by dragging him into the house, lifting him up over his knee and walloping him more than a dozen times for nothing more than simply running an audio file through the speakers that announced in a very official tone that the exercise yard was now closed and that prisoners needed to return to their cells immediately. It had been a joke and he was sure Neal would have found it funny, but typically, Peter didn't get it.

"Eric!"

Eric groaned, 'Unbelievable,' while heading for the stairs but not before warning Scottie, "You stay out of my fridge. I'll know it if you've touched anything!"

"Okays, Air-wick, eyes will."

The older boy nodded, satisfied, then continued up the stairs. It had been arranged that Peter would drive Rose Adintay and him to the Winter Wonderland Dance and Mrs Adintay would bring them both home. It was discussed, long before any phone calls were made, and everyone seemed to concur, that Rosie's mom would no doubt be a lot more comfortable with her daughter travelling to the dance with an FBI agent as opposed to a guy she'd never met because he'd been behind bars for the better part of the past year. Eric hadn't cared all that much, he would have happily walked there but, whatever. He couldn't see what the fuss was that they all seemed to be making over him going to the dance with Rose anyway. As far as Eric could work out, going with someone was no more complex or involved than actually travelling to the venue with them. Really, a bit of a let down in the end but it wasn't a big deal – Carl was going to bring along his NaNot and they were bound to be able to have some fun with it while the time passed.

"Oh, you look so handsome." That was Elizabeth, before he'd even reached the top of the stairs. "You're going to have all the girls wanting a dance with you."

Eric couldn't work out whether that would be a good thing or a bad thing. "Uh," he suddenly felt self-conscious with three pairs of eyes smiling and not frowning at him for a change. "Uh…" he reached up to where his tie should be, "I can't find…"

"You looking for this?" From seemingly out of thin air, Neal produced a tie.

"Yeah."

"You left it on the dining table," Neal explained as he came across and without asking, began threading Eric's tie through his collar.

Eric tried not to appear bothered so he stared at the numbers on his watch until Neal had finish then Elizabeth stepped forward and held out a flower in a clear plastic box.

Before she could go any further, Eric held up his hand, "No, I am NOT going to wear that!"

Everyone laughed, everyone that was except for Eric.

"Oh, sweetie, it's not for you, it's a corsage…for you to give to Rose."

Eric screwed up his face by way of saying, 'No way in hell,' but instead he said, "You know all we are doing is getting a lift together, right? That's it."

Peter agreed instantly, "Yes, absolutely that's it."

"But," Neal nudged Peter out of the way, took the flower from Elizabeth and offered it to his son, "this will mean more to Rose than a simple car ride…."

Eric contemplated Neal's words, after all, he'd been the one that had talked Eric into writing a letter back to Rosie by explaining that being the brunt of a joke could not be worse than never knowing how it would have played out if he didn't respond and so far, it seemed that her invite to go to the Winter Wonderland Dance together was legit. Rosie and him had chatted a bit beside the lockers and a couple of times recently, Rose and her posse of friends had sat with them in the lunchroom, which was kind of cool.

"…When you hand it to her and see her smile, you'll wish you brought her two…trust me."

Eric shrugged and took the damn flower.

"Okay, let's go," Peter collected his keys off the kitchen bench and pointed to the front door. "We're supposed to be at the Adintay's already."

"Wait," Elizabeth halted the exodus. "I need to get a picture."

Both Peter and Eric groaned, but they spun back regardless knowing full well they wouldn't be getting out the door without a photo first.

"Okay," Elizabeth adjusted some settings on her camera and pointed it at Eric. "Smile."

Eric for his part, stood impassively with the flower, displaying as little emotion as he could muster.

Elizabeth lowered the camera and pleaded, "Smile, sweetie. I want a nice one for my sideboard."

Eric's expression didn't change as Elizabeth lifted her camera once more so Peter warned, "Eric…"

This time Eric opened his lips and crunched his teeth together causing El to suggest, "Uh, let's try it without the smile I guess, you look more debonair like that."

That comment made Eric smirk with pride and Elizabeth took the opportunity to snap at that moment.

"We all done?" Peter asked as patiently as he could manage, which wasn't a lot.

"Yes," Eric answered for them all and made tracks for the door.

"Eric." That was Neal.

Eric moaned as he spun back around, desperate to make some smart comment but Peter was standing way too close so he simply went with, "Yes?"

"I…" Neal stepped a little closer. "I just wanted to say…have a good time."

Eric paused, thinking Neal was going to say more but when he didn't, he turned towards to the door and replied over his shoulder, "Yeah…thanks."

"See you soon," Peter added, and followed Eric out to the car.

While Eric waited by the passenger door for Peter to catch up, he glanced back at the house and predictably, Neal and Elizabeth were both standing there with unbearably stupid grins on their faces. Eric cringed as he slid into the passenger's seat hoping none of the neighbours were watching. The only thing missing from this pathetically fake 'happy families' depiction was a perky little cherub…no, wait…there he was…Scott-Allen appeared just in time, as per the script. Eric shook his head in disgust. Sometimes these people just made his stomach churn. He wasn't sure why, but sometimes he just felt like punching every one of them, which wouldn't be his fault if he did. And besides, it should have been his mom up there, not Elizabeth. Part of him had thought, hoped maybe, that his mom might come along and see him before he went off to the dance. He knew that Neal had offered because he'd overheard him on the phone in the bedroom speaking quietly to his mom and telling her about the dance, but Eric figured she had something else better to do, because look…she wasn't there. But what did he care anyways? Carl and him, and…he looked at the flower in his lap…hopefully Rosie were going to have a fun night. Maybe he could even get the band to play some of the music he'd learnt to dance to down in Las Palmas de Gran, if they even knew what reggae music was.

"You going to wave back?" Peter asked as he started up the car.

Eric looked up, "Uh?"

Peter nodded back in the direction of the house and Eric cringed again at how dumb the trio looked all waving in unison but lifted his hand anyway, because he knew Peter wouldn't leave until he did.

That seemed to satisfy Elizabeth because she took Scott-Allen's hand in hers and led him back inside leaving Neal alone of the porch. Eric studied his father and contemplated what the future held for both of them. Not the distant future where he saw himself as some world-renowned art virtuoso and Neal a lone old spinster rocking in his chair on the porch day in day out, but the immediate future as in after the summer vacation future. Would he come back from Venuszela? Would he continue on at Barkley House with Carl or discover a more appealing option in his travels? Would he take photos of the pup around to show his mom? Probably. She'd want to see how much they'd grown.

Neal waved until Eric couldn't see him anymore. The guy wasn't too hard to take…as far as fathers went. In fact, he'd been surprisingly easy to get along with and didn't even come close to the over-bearing, oppressive figure sitting beside him. Eric of course, wondered if Neal was just faking it long enough to suck him in or whether there was a possibility that he really was a chillax sort of guy. After all, his mom had once found him okay enough. Eric guessed that time would tell the real story.

"He's proud of you."

"Huh?"

"Your dad," Peter titled his head back in the direction of the house. "He's very proud of you, you know? "

Eric shrugged and slumped in his seat. "I guess he told you that?" Peter and Neal were like two teenage girls sharing all their deep, precious little secrets.

"No, he didn't…"

Eric raised his brows and glanced across at the old man, almost disappointedly.

"…he didn't need to. I know he's proud because…" Peter took his eyes off the road for a second while he gave the young man in the passenger seat the once over… "because, hell knows, I am."